


The Burglar

by Danagirl623



Series: Greg/John/Sherlock [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom John, Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, OTP3, Switch Greg, Top Sherlock, johnlockstrade - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: THANK YOU SO MUCH LEO MY LOVE <3Mind your tags!!!! This story was written as a CNC story.I'm going to tell you this, and only once.THIS STORY IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. There are attitudes expressed in this that are not mine or necessarily the folks.John Watson is spending a quiet evening at home without his crime fighting husbands.





	The Burglar

**Author's Note:**

> This is CNC.
> 
> This is healthy and pre-negoiated. EVERYTHING was agreed upon all parties. 
> 
> Mind your tags, folks <3

“Hello, Sergeant Donovan. How is your evening going?” John Watson grinned charmingly at the tall, thin, brown-skinned woman. He looked her over with a bit of a predatory gaze.

 

“Here with tea for Greg?” Sally grinned at him, as she nodded to the bag in his hand.  John nodded, as he noticed her look him over hungrily. “Your husband would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.”

 

“I think he does it on purpose.” John winked at her, as he slipped past the desk to go to his husband’s office. John shut the door behind him and plopped himself down in the visitor’s chair.

 

“John! You brought tea!” John’s ruggedly handsome, grey-haired husband said, with a bit of a smirk.

 

“Someone forgot it at home.” John rolled his eyes before he leaned over the desk for a good evening kiss. Greg Lestrade leaned in close to his husband, and kissed him chastely.

 

“Good evening, my darling. Would you like to join me?”

 

“No way. You’re working, Sherlock’s not home. I want a quiet evening in the flat. I’m going to read some more of my book and drink a beer.”

 

“That sounds like a good evening. Better than mine.” Greg laughed. “I have to work.”

 

“Yes, I know. Hopefully you get to come home to me at midnight, instead of 6 a.m. I hate going to sleep without you.”

 

“Especially with that damned burglar in our area.”

 

“Darling, you really think that _anyone_ is dumb enough to try to break in on Mrs. H?”

 

“I think that you are a bit too naive for my taste,” Greg said, digging into the sack. “You spoil me, Watson.”

 

“Yes I do, Lestrade.”

 

“Any sign of Holmes?”

 

“You’re kidding right?” John asked with a bit of a huff. “You and I both know he won’t be home for days, and why not? Because you pissed him off.”

 

“I pissed him off?”

 

“Yes! You shouted at him about his dirty socks on the floor.”

 

“He has a sock index, but he still leaves his dirty socks on the floor.”

 

“He’s fragile. You know how geniuses are. You’ve shagged enough-”

 

“Only two,” Greg clarified, then winked. “Both Holmes brothers.”

 

John grinned at his husband, then leaned forward in his seat for a kiss. Greg kissed his husband tenderly, and smiled at him. “Please be safe getting home.”

 

“Listen, I have George and Lennie waiting for me at home. I gotta get home.”

 

“Two men waiting for you?” Greg asked, standing up and coming around the desk. “I’m jealous. You told me you would never let two dudes screw you at once.”

 

“Very funny, husband mine. You know I’m reading _Of Mice and Men._ ”

 

“Be safe! Text me when you get home?” Greg asked, pulling his husband into his arms before he kissed him. Greg ran his thumb down John’s cheek lovingly. “I really do love you, John. I don’t want anything to happen to you… and your association with that Holmes man. It’s so unsavory.”

 

“You mean our association with our husband….” John laughed, before he kissed his husband again. “I love you too.”

 

“Please, text me when you get home?”

 

“Yes, darling,”  John said, with a roll of his eyes. John escaped his husband’s arms and walked out of the precinct. He hailed his own cab and locked the doors for the quiet ride. A text tone beeped on his phone and John pulled the message up.

 

_I’m going to be out late. Mycroft has insisted that I stay with him for a bit to let Graham cool down. If I don’t make it home, it’s because I’ve murdered him and have to clean the crime scene. SH_

 

John laughed, and ran his fingers through his hair before he responded.

 

_Have fun, be safe. I love you. JW_

 

_If I need help hiding a body, can I count on you? SH_

 

The cab pulled up to 221B Baker Street. John paid the cab driver, and slowly made his way up the steps. His text message tone had gone off, and he looked at it after he was in the apartment, making sure the door was locked behind him.

 

_Yes, my love, you can. Home safely. JW_

 

_Good. Go drink a ghastly beer and watch mind-numbing telly, like you’re so fond of. SH_

 

John laughed before he sent a message to his other husband.

 

_Home, darling. Sherlock’s at his brother’s house. I’m going to take a bath and read. Love you, Gregory. Come home safely. JW_

 

John dropped his phone into his basket, with his keys, before shuffling over to the bedroom and pulling his gun out of his holster. Extracting the clip out of the gun, John opened the chamber to make sure it, too, was empty. Satisfied, he tipped the gun back into his palm and caught the stray bullet in his hand. Rolling the bullet through his fingers, John unlocked the small drawer safe and stored his pistol and ammunition away in it. He shut the drawer carefully, and righted the deodorant that had fallen over.

 

John stripped himself down and threw his dirty clothes in the basket against the wall. Spying a lone black sock on the floor he added it to the basket.

 

John grabbed his book from on top of his dresser before he went into the bathroom. He went over to the impressive stereo and took a moment to think about how to work it before he pressed the power button, then the one labeled “John’s music.”

 

John filled the large tub with hot water and bubbles. He waited until the water was hotter than Hell before he climbed in. He settled himself in comfortably before he opened his book and got lost in _Of Mice and Men._

 

What felt like hours passed in this quiet fashion, until the hot water finally gave out, forcing John to crawl out of the bath. John wrapped a towel around his waist and stood in front of the mirror.

 

“Hmm, shall I shave or not shave?”  he asked himself, as he raked his fingers through his beard. “Trim,” John nodded at himself, before he set to work.

 

John finished grooming his beard. He took his time washing his face, and brushing his teeth before he went into the bedroom. John grabbed his deodorant and applied it before he pulled a pair of pants on.   


John padded out to the living room to check the door was locked. He rubbed his stomach lazily, as he walked over to his basket. He leaned against the counter as he scrolled through his cell phone.

 

He sent two message to his husbands, confirming the door was locked and that he was going to bed.

 

_Greg, be safe. Come home when you’re able. I checked all the locks. I’m safe as houses. I love you, JW_

 

_Sherlock, try to tolerate your brother a little bit. Don’t be a braggart when you beat him at chess. I love you, JW_

 

He tucked his cellphone back into his basket, and went back into the bedroom. He threw himself into the middle of the bed with his limbs flung out in a starfish shape.

 

John closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars for such a relaxing evening.

  
  


A loud shattering noise woke John hours later, causing the ex-soldier to sit up and glare around the pitch black room. The crunch of glass wiped the last traces of sleep from John’s mind. As quiet as a church mouse, he snuck out of bed, and carefully made his way to the dresser. He pulled it opened, and fumbled with the keypad to open the small safe.

 

The gun was in John’s hand, and he was creeping into the living room before he knew it. It was brightly lit and it took John’s eyes a moment to adjust. He kept his back to the hallway and the bedroom, the door securely shut, but not locked, and held the gun out in front of him like he’d been taught. John was looking the other way when he felt something slip around his neck and dropped the gun in surprise.

 

John gasped loudly, and fought to slide his fingers between his neck and the silk rope. The silk rope tightened on his throat, and he went up on his toes to give himself some slack. John managed to slip his fingers under and take a deep breathe.

 

“Stay still,” the deep, rich, baritone instructed in a low voice. John’s entire being struggled to comply, but everything in him told him to fight. A twitch in his arms must have given him away, because that silky-smooth voice was in his ear, “I told you to stay still.”

 

John hissed as the rope tightened on his throat.

 

“I was just looking for a quick fix, but there’s nothing here worth stealing and selling… although.” A gloved hand stroked down John’s side, causing a shudder to ripple through him. “My plans for tonight just blossomed.”

 

Before John could make a move, his entire body was slammed into the closest wall by someone much taller than him. “Fuck!” John exclaimed as his face took the brunt of the hit. A thrust against John’s pants clad arse told him explicitly what the burglar had in mind.

 

A deep chuckle, low in his ear, almost made John melt. “That’s the idea.” John’s mind started whirling, and he heard the man behind him sigh. “Don’t think. You’ll lower the IQ of the whole street.”

 

John pulled his fingers out from the fabric around his neck and reached behind him to make contact with the body touching his. Before John could actually form a plan, the burglar pulled his hands together sharply and held them together with a zip-tie. John groaned, and tried to struggle. “You’re making a huge, fucking mistake,” John tried to threaten, as he felt blood gush from his nose.

 

The burglar laughed in his ear, and pulled the rope from John’s throat before he manhandled him across the room. John felt himself being bent over the couch, and his feet being tied to the couch. He thrashed his entire body, and cursed loudly. “Untie me you fucking idiot. My husband will be home soon and he’s going to kill you.”

 

“Silence now,” the burglar said, bending over to pick up the fallen gun. A dark curl escaped from the balaclava on the burglar’s head, as he made his way into the bedroom.

 

Finally, John saw the burglar properly. He was tall, properly thin, and clad in black from head to toe. The burglar came out from the bedroom with a bottle of lube in his hand, but no gun.  John stared daggers at the man.

 

John huffed, but didn’t stop talking. “I’m going to get out of this tie up, and I will murder you! I’m John Hamish Watson formerly of the-”

 

“No, you’re Sherlock Holmes’ little slut. I’ve seen the way you trail after him. I’ve seen you two exist in the same space… Oh, no one ever sees me. I’m nothing, but you two? The whole world knows that John Watson used to be a brilliant killing machine, but now he sucks cocks for fun.”

 

“Fuck you.” John thrashed harder, straining against the ties.

 

“I’m going to fuck you, now do shut up-”

 

John reared back, and felt his head collide with the burglar’s chin. A stream of curses was unleashed behind him, as John tried to figure out his next move. A large rip startled John from his thoughts. The burglar tipped John’s head back, and stuffed the pants he was previously wearing into his mouth.

 

“If you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut, I will make you be quiet.”

 

The burglar ran his leather-clad hands down John’s body, using his knees to spread John’s legs farther. A hot mouth on his neck, kissing up to his ear, where the burglar spent his time kissing and gently biting. “Try another dumb stunt like that, and I won’t use lube.”  

 

John didn’t move for a minute, but a sharp tug on his earlobe made him nod frantically.

 

The burglar laughed, low and dangerously. “What happened to those threats of killing me now?”

 

John whined in response, leaning back against the taller man. The burglar trailed his hand up John’s spine, and grabbed a fistful of hair. The burglar pushed John’s head down, and held it there.

 

“Be a good slut, and stay still.” A sharp slap on John’s arse re-enforced the burglar's authority. A lid was popped off, and a squelch let John know what was coming.

 

The burglar’s hands were pulling John’s arse cheeks apart, and trailing a finger around the pink ring of muscle. “So it’s true. The great Dr. John Watson is a whore for Sherlock Holmes… Mmm, I can’t wait to confirm this one.”  The burglar said in John’s ear, as he slid a finger into John’s arse. “No resistance…” The burglar said, as he fumbled with his own pants.

 

John felt something warm press bluntly against his hole, and bit his cheek to keep from calling out. He felt a firm, steadying hand on the back of his neck holding him in place, as he felt his arse being filled. John groaned loudly, pressing his palms together trying to stay silent.

 

“Oh, it’s ok. Make all the noise you want. I’m getting what I need.” The burglar encouraged John, pressing his hips forward. John bit the inside of his lip harder to keep from moaning. The hand in his hair tugged hard, and John cried out this time.

 

“You little whore,” the burglar taunted, as he smoothly pressed into John’s arse. “Do you like being fucked? Filled like the slut you are?”

 

John bit the inside of his lip again, and pressed his hands together, refusing to give the burglar the satisfaction of his verbalization.

 

Slowly, the burglar pulled out of John’s arse. “I got all night, pretty boy,” the burglar reminded John, as he pressed firmly into him holding on John’s hip in a bruising manner.

 

John bit his lip harder, and shook his head. He tried to say, “My husband will be home soon! You’re going to regret this. I’m going to kill you!” but it came out as a bunch of mumbo jumbo.

 

The burglar chuckled, and slapped John’s arse in a dismissive manner. “Hush now, just be my good bitch and let me fuck into your sweet arse.”  

 

John whimpered, and pressed his eyes shut, trying to stop tears from welling up. He sniffled, as he thought of his husbands and the shame of having to tell them what happened. The tears flowed from his eyes freely.

 

“Oh, are you crying now?” The burglar asked as he increased the speed at which his hips thrust in and out of John. The burglar adjusted his grip, and jackhammered into John’s arse making sure to hit his prostate.

 

Over.

 

And over.

 

And over.

 

The burglar teased John the entire time, in a steady voice. “You want it to go easy, you hot little fuck?” John whined loud enough to be heard through his pants.

 

“Dream on.” The burglar laughed low in John’s ear.

 

The Burglar’s pursuit of his own orgasm was as relentless as his own hip movements.

 

“Shall I come in you? Mark you as the dirty slut you are?”

 

The steady _slap, slap, slap_ of the burglar’s hips and thighs slamming into John’s arse and legs filled the air. John sobbed loudly, and felt his body betraying him with a shuddering orgasm.

 

“Oh, is this what you like? To be degraded until you make a mess in your pants?” The burglar taunted, before his own release followed.  “You’re so delicious… I should take you home with me.”

 

The burglar ran his hands over the arse in front of him, then kissed John’s neck. “Oh, pet, I’ll be back for you. Such a sweet arse is completely wasted on that hack, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

John whined, and shook his head frantically.

 

“Shh, shh, little slut,” the burglar said, running his hands down John’s body. The burglar laughed as he tucked himself away. “Did you come? Hmm?” John felt a hand grab him through his pants. “You are such a good little slut. Of course you did.”

 

The sound of the key in the door made every cell in John’s body shout with happiness. The door to 221B Baker Street banged open with a shout of “OI! That's my husband!"

 

The burglar smirked, slapped John’s arse.  "Well, he's just been the best little bitch for me. Thanks for the treat, boy." The burglar hurtled himself from the room via the window.

 

Greg was torn between chasing the man in black, and tending to his husband. A muddled cry made the decision for him. Greg quickly cut John free, and pulled the ruined pants from John’s mouth. Greg wrapped him into a knitted blanket before helping him onto the couch.  "We need to get you to the hospital. I don’t like how any of this is looking.” Greg gently examined the marks on John’s wrists, with a worried glance up at his face. “And your nose! It was bleeding. Jesus christ, John. We got to get you to the hospital.”

 

“No! I don’t want to go. I want to stay here and snuggle.” John moved further into Greg’s arms.

 

“John, we have to take you to the hospital. What if he tore you, or hurt you in anyway?”

 

“I am hurt, but I want my husbands. I don’t want doctors prodding at me. It’s…” John swallowed hard. “Bad enough that you know about it. It’s so shameful.”

 

“It’s not.. Shhh.” Greg held John in his arms, and pressed chaste kisses to his husband’s head. “John, we need to go to the-”

 

“NO!” John shouted, curling up under the blanket.

 

“Shh, shh, ok, love.”

 

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked, with a snuffle.

 

“He’ll be home soon,” Greg said comfortingly. John continued to snuggle Greg for a long while before Sherlock’s footsteps were heard on the steps.

 

John bolted upright as he heard the key in the door. Sherlock opened the door, and had an armful of terrorized Doctor. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John who started sobbing, again.

 

“I’m so glad you’re home. I.. I had such a bad night.”

 

“Burglar broke in.” Greg motioned to the broken window.

 

“Oh, John. Are you ok?” Sherlock asked, rubbing John’s back.

 

“No, no, no. Come join us on the couch.”  John pulled his other husband to the couch and buried himself between his two husbands.

 

“I love you both. Please, please know that I didn’t-” John started, blubbering and crying.

 

“Shh, darling,” Greg whispered, kissing John’s head. “I love you, too.”

 

Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head. “I love you, too. Whatever happened, I know it wasn’t **your** fault. You can’t help a physical response.”

 

John hid his face in Sherlock’s chest, and put his feet up on Greg. Sherlock held John and rubbed his back. “Shh, shh, love. You’re ok, my John. I’ve got you.” Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head before he whispered, lowly,  “I’ll keep you safe, my John.”

**Author's Note:**

> John has a safe word (and yes, the manpanties in mouth thing was agreed upon. John would snap if necessary) . Greg has a safe word. Sherlock has a safe word. 
> 
> As for John Watson, he is the most spoiled and loved sub. 
> 
> That night the kisses, cuddles, snuggles, hugs, hand-holding, praises, affirmations were plentiful from both Sherlock and Greg. The best part of the evening was when John was snuggled up in Sherlock's arms while Greg was showering, and Sherlock tipped John's chin up to whisper, "Thank you so much for helping me to fulfill my fantasies, John Hamish. You are the best man." 
> 
> You can bet over the next few weeks there were extra kisses, praises, and more tender moments for John than normal just to remind John how loved/valued/needed/cherished he is.


End file.
